[@Wraithblade6][@supertinyking]

The small one was odd. While speech was far from unknown among his species - indeed, Khaine oft took the time to learn the languages of the worlds he sought to conquer - rambling was foreign to him. Speech was a means to an end, and an end that would be reached with the swiftness of a blade to the throat. Yet the child talked about things both meaningful and meaningless, seeming to talk for no other reason than to talk, as if there was value in the act in and of itself. Such a thing was an oddity to Forge Demons, to whom value was measured in strength of both steel and muscle, and in valuable metals. But Khaine decided to endure it, carefully retaining the information that could be gleaned from the creature's monologue in case it might become useful at some later point.

Suddenly, Khaine heard a sound. Footsteps, fast moving, running. The slight hiss of steel leaving the sheath, the clatter of weapons as an armed party sped towards the pair. Khaine turned, reflexes primed for a fight, as a strange figure leaped up into the air. They'd gotten close, Khaine had been too relaxed. Internally he scolded himself, back in his day as warlord no opponent could have moved near him without his blade finding their throat. As it was, his fist flashed out to catch Isaac in the gut even as he attempted to leap the nearly 4m behemoth. The heavy Demonsteel gauntlet smashed into Isaac's abdomen, and the enhanced human was sent flying back into his insectoid retainers. A normal human would have been shredded by the blow, as Khaine's fists carried the force to tear through brick walls. And it was only through Isaac's superhuman endurance that he was able to take it as well as he did.

With a gesture, a portal opened at Khaine's feet, and from it came the Dread Blade 'Rending Eye.' The immense black sword was over 2m in length, larger than most men in and of itself, and had been custom made from the Blood of Baal when Khaine had first earned the title of Dread Lord. Fiery red lines formed intricate patterns and runes over the solid black blade, the edge blazing a bright orange. Where the guard gave way to the blade rested a closed eye, the organic component seemingly fused with the blade itself. A wave of heat washed through the room, tiny blue flames bursting from where the edge touched the air. Khaine gripped it in one hand, and faced the force that stood before him. The smell of blood was in the air, and like a shark, it excited him. He could taste the smoke in the air, the ashes of the mighty forges that still worked below. Memories of a thousand battles flooded through his mind, as his body automatically assumed a combat stance. On reflex, he raised the blade towards his opponents. Had this been but ten years prior, he would have waded through this foolish group of aliens blade flashing, and left nothing but burnt corpses.

"[color=9e0b0f]............[/color]" Khaine glared down at Isaac and the insectoids. He was unsure of what to do in this situation, besides attack. And yet some part of him knew that to give in to violence now would make all his earlier efforts void. And most bewilderingly of all, he noticed that in his moment of preparation, he had placed himself in between the tiny mortal and the attacking force. Filing away his concerns for later, Khaine questioned the force before him. "[color=9e0b0f]Tell me, who are you, mortals. You may not have proven yourselves to me, but perhaps if I know your name I shall have an easier time sparing your lives.[/color]" While the statement might have sounded like a threat, coming from Khaine, it was completely legitimate.